Walking Down Memory Lane

So many memories.

29 years of memories with him.

6 years of memories without him.

189,388,800 seconds of knowing he’s not here.

3,156,480 minutes of walking this lonely grief journey.

52,608 hours of missed moments.

2192 days of unsent daily “good morning” texts.

313 weeks (and 1 day) of wishing for one more day together.

As the years go by, I miss him more. And I miss him less. I worry that I’m forgetting the details. That I’m forgetting him. That I won’t be able to remember his voice or his smile next year or the next. That I’ll forget that one time he drove me back home to wait a while on the first day of 7th grade, because we were too early, and he didn’t want to make me stand alone when I didn’t know anyone. Or the time I was running bases for him and plowed thru his catcher, and he was so proud that his “tough baby girl just ran that boy over.” Or the time he apologized for not getting it right—the parenting thing—and asking my forgiveness and promising to be a better dad. I don’t want to forget.

So I walk down Memory Lane as often as I need. And on days like today, I walk a little longer.